


Fever Dream

by Spoon888



Series: Bright Spots [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Rare Pairings, Size Difference, Skywarp's Horny Brain, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 16:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20491847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Skywarp makes his move on his favourite gladiator, Strika, but she might be more than he can handle.A Bright Still 'missing scene'.





	Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the multichapter fic 'Bright Still'. For a supporter who asked for Skywarp's 'Strika dreams' to come true.

Kolkular was a large fortress, and the likelihood of catching a mech as busy as Strika out and about was slim, but Skywarp tried nonetheless.

It wasn't like he had much else to do anyway. Starscream was off with Megatron, taking a romantic stroll through the forges probably, and Thundercracker had wearily asked for some 'alone time', his optics crinkled and fingers rubbing at his temples like another one of his headaches was coming on -the sort he always got when Starscream was out and Skywarp was bored and he needed an excuse to get out of being dragged into whatever ridiculousness Skywarp would inevitably concoct.

Which brought Skywarp to his current situation, loitering in a hallway between the off duty 'advanced' sparring room and the command hub, where the glory that was Strika was most likely to frequent. Most _likely_, because Soundwave had refused to give him access to her schedule, claiming he was considered a high risk for security breaches.

Rude.

Thankfully, even with stupid Soundwave's refusal to act like a decent wing-mech, luck was on Skywarp's side.

His spark doubled it's pulse rate when her imposing frame came around the narrow corner, her broad shoulders taking up the width of the corridor, just an inch or so to spare either side of her hulking, powerful arms. She marched with a purpose, helm high and optics staring straight ahead.

Skywarp perked his wings up and lifted a finger, voice uncommonly meek, "Um, hi, I-"

Standing at less than half her colossal size, it was possible that she just hadn't seen him when she strode right into him. With no room left in the corridor to escape, and legs too short to rush out of the way, Skywarp ended up smacking his chin against the top of her pelvic armour. Her forward momentum had him stumbling back until he fell to the floor with a clumsy thunk.

"Oof!"

Mortified, he remained on the dirty floor staring straight ahead at her support-beam sized legs, hoping she'd simply step over him and continue on her way so they could both pretend this had never happened.

"My apologises." Her stern voice announced without a hint of the awkwardness Skywarp himself was feeling. "I did not see you."

Skywarp looked up, and realised that her huge frame and powerful chest (although mesmerising) were also a hindrance when it came to keeping at optic on what was directly underfoot. He could just about see the top of her face over her chassis from the angle he saw sat at, only her smouldering, narrowed optics.

He flashed her his most charming smile.

"S'okay." He said lightly, pushing himself up and brushing down his armour. "I've been told 'I'm always in the way'."

"You are exactly where you should be." Strika used her massive golden hand to brush down his wing for him, almost upending him all over again. "The fortress is as much yours to explore as it is anyone's. Those who say otherwise are fools."

Skywarp's spark did a little twirl in it's chamber. There were, naturally, Decepticons that disliked his trine's presence here, and didn't think Kaon was a space that should have to accommodate privileged little seekers, let alone members of a foreign royal household. But those mechs were few and far between, and that Strika wasn't one of them brought a wealth of relief to Skywarp.

"Er, thanks!" He said lamely, internally slapping his own forehead.

"You are most welcome-"

"Skywarp."

"_Skywarp._" She repeated in her husky, accented voice, and Skywarp's legs wanted to turn to plasticine at the sound. He'd never loved the sound of his own designation as much as he did then.

She looked like she wanted to pass him and be on her way, but Skywarp wasn't sure when he'd be able to run into her again. And she could be transported back to Helex any day now, and he'd only get one chance at this and, _and_

"You wanna frag?" He squeaked, vocaliser catching like Starscream's did when he was upset.

He had no idea if that was how Decepticons actually propositioned one another. He'd only witnessed casual drunken hookups in the mess late in the evenings, and he was fully prepared for Strika to punch him clean through a wall for his forwardness, but instead her head tilted in consideration.

"You have failed to consider our size discrepancies." She folded her arms. "I am far too large for you."

"Screamer's _supposedly_ clanging Megatron." Skywarp pointed out, because that was a pretty big size discript-whatever.

"I am larger than Megatron."

She was. Taller, that is. But something about her tone, the arch of her brow, implied she was talking about... something else. Skywarp's spark pulse was in his throat, his fingers tingling like they were about to go numb.

"Don't know if we don't try." He wheezed, cheeks on fire.

Strika's hand landed on his shoulder, weighing down on it, heavy and broad. Skywarp glanced at her fingers -thick and long- and swallowed. "I have a meeting scheduled in just over two hours." She told him. "So we must be finished before then."

To Skywarp, who'd been living off ten-fifteen minute quickies with Thundercracker every time Starscream left the room to take a bath, it sounded like a wealth of time.

"Okay." He whimpered, almost forgetting how to put one foot in front of the other to walk in a straight line.

Strika took him to what Skywarp could only assume were the private quarters where she was staying. There were no personal effects to speak of, only a berth, a work station, and a storage unit for detachable weaponry. It implied this was probably a spare command room used by returning lieutenants who were stationed elsewhere.

The berth was comfortable enough. Skywarp bounced on it when he sat but it didn't creak or groan, better than the ones he had seen the lower level Decepticons recharging on in the barracks at least.

She stood in front of him, huge golden fists clenched at her sides. Skywarp shrank under her gaze and her shadow, shifting back on the berth so his legs hung over the edge, toe pedes grazing the floor. Her hand relaxed out of it's fist and reached for him, fingers curiously extended.

"These," she inquired, brushing blunt finger tips along the edge of his wing. The sensation left tingles. He shuddered. "They are sensitive."

Skywarp nodded, dropping back and spreading them beneath him wantonly, angling his frame luxuriously. He'd been with bigger mechs before, usually shuttles, or high-caste tourists in Vos, but never a Decepticon, and never a mech with Strika's thick, powerful build.

She touched him curiously at first -servos that could crush steel like paper light and careful, probing at armour seams as they looked for sensitive spots, learning his foreign frame-type. Skywarp wondered if she'd ever been with a seeker before, and hoped he impressed enough that she thought of coming back for more.

Skywarp laid back patiently, watching through hooded optics. A big hand slipped under his knee and lifted his leg, pushing it up and to the side.

She made an impressed noise. "You are very flexible."

"I prefer 'adaptable'." Skywarp flashed her a grin, and was sure her optics brightened with a spark of amusement. He released his modesty panel and the musky perfume of his arousal filled the thick warm air between them.

Strika's large heavy engines rumbled as she tilted her head and considered him, the big hand under his knee slipping around to cup his hip. A thumb brushed over his opening, thick and warm. He arched into it with a sharp little breath. She could stretch him out with that alone.

"Very pretty." She praised, then pressed her thumb inside.

Skywarp clenched with a gasp, opening his legs wider. He was sure he'd taken spikes not much larger than that, and Strika was already pushing it in and out, moving shallowly, still curious. Skywarp glanced down and noticed her panels were still sealed. He undulated his hips down into the firm press of her thumb in his valve, moaning when she withdrew to swirl the damp thumb pad against his node.

"Very sensitive." She continued. "I may not even _have_ to spike you."

"Please." Skywarp whined, thinking about how big she would be, the stretch of her thick spike inside him, how she might be able to split him in two and ruin facing forever more. He grabbed her broad wrist -his hand nowhere near big enough to encircle it- and tried to urge her to move deeper, faster.

She drew away, leaving him empty and aching. "No wait-"

But she straightened and unlatched her codpiece, and Skywarp's optics grew to spotlights when her spike housing began to part to make way for her expanding spike. It was almost completely plain, the same purple as Strika's chest plate and nothing more. Basic, un-modded, smooth, and thick, and utterly perfect. As it grew she took it in hand, lifting it and stroking slowly when it began to droop under it's own weight. It curved towards the tip, and only one bio-light adorned it, glowing faintly right beneath the slit at the tip.

Skywarp's mouth watered at the sight of it, hard steel and power, putting all others he'd taken to shame.

"You are sure?" She enquired, stepping between his legs and lining herself up. She tilted her hips forward so Skywarp could feel the blunt head of her spike rub in circles against his node. "I am not sure I will fit."

"We'll make it fit." Skywarp claimed, half-hysterical. It bumped his entrance next, so big it struggled to nudge between his damp mesh folds. He lifted a leg up, drawing it close to his own chest to spread himself lewdly. She managed to get the head resting between pleats of mesh, just lingering before the first ring of tight callipers, ready to push them apart and split him open.

"Do it." Skywarp ordered, bracing himself.

She shoved in, plowing through the callipers, _making_ them give way to her girth. Skywarp arched clean off the berth and cried sharply. The burn, the heat, the _pleasure_-

Something smacked him across his face.

"Agh!"

He woke with a start in a dark room, cooling fans whirring and vents heaving.

"Shut _up_." Starscream's voice hissed somewhere next to him. Skywarp saw a pillow being retracted by Thundercracker. It must have been what hit him. "What the pit are you _doing_?!" Starscream demanded.

Skywarp blinked up at the ceiling, hot and bothered and so dreadfully unsatisfied. There was no Strika, no amazing spike, and his valve was aching and clenching in want.

"...I ...was having a nightmare." He lied.

"Do it again and I'm kicking you out." Starscream hissed, and looked over Skywarp to glare at Thundercracker too. "_Both_ of you."

He rolled onto his side away from them, giving them both the cold wing. Skywarp swallowed, mouth dry, and subtly pushed the covers down a bit to try and cool his frame off.

"_Strika_ in your nightmare?" He heard Thundercracker whisper disbelievingly.

"...Maybe." Skywarp lay as stiff as a board.

"You're incorrigible."

"You never usually complain." Skywarp muttered back.

He didn't see the pillow until it was a split second away from slamming into his face again. 


End file.
